


Nightmares of the broken

by The_Ol_Razzle_Dazzle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Auror Harry Potter, Canon-Typical Violence, Crime Scenes, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Harry Potter Has Issues, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Investigations, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Muggle Technology, Murder Mystery, Nightmares, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Prisoner Voldemort, Roommates, Sane Voldemort (Harry Potter), Serial Killers, Survivor Guilt, Undercover, Voldemort is still a jerk, countryside
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27527401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Ol_Razzle_Dazzle/pseuds/The_Ol_Razzle_Dazzle
Summary: The war has ended but Harry Potter's dreams keep being filled with death while his greatest enemy is held in prison. The appearance of a serial killer that targets muggleborns will make Harry turn to him for help, but will he later come to regret his decision?
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Voldemort, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 11
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Running**.

He was running.

He didn’t know why or from who he was running from, but he knew that whatever it was that was making him run was dangerous.

The earth’s soil mixed with gravel and sharp rocks felt hard underneath his bare feet as he pushed himself to go faster. Every time he hit the ground he could feel them getting cut, scared, he could feel as the thick blood spilled from his open wounds and run down the sole of his foot staining the ground with horrid red , yet he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He needed to run as fast as possible even if it broke him.

The darkness creeping behind was going to catch up with him soon.

He kept running and stumbling through places he was sure he had seen before somewhere in his lifetime. A deep dark forest, an old castle almost in ruin, an unusual house that was burning down, a brooding manor glimmering under the moonlight.

All these places felt and looked familiar to him and yet he couldn’t recognize them if you asked him to.

His heartbeat was now ringing in his ears, increasing in speed with each different location he found himself in. He could feel himself getting breathless with each stride, his ability to breathe coming to him harder and harder. Yet he couldn’t give up. It would only mean his doom if he did.

For a moment, the world around him went black and he felt something hit his legs harshly, making him stumble forwards and fall on his face, a train of pain hitting him all at once making him let out a loud scream. His first instinct was to look back at what made him fall over, only to find a black shadow limp on the ground. Had he run over it? He couldn’t think properly, the world around him was still dark and spinning.

He closed his eyes and waited.

When the world became clear, again he took in his surroundings and felt his entire body freeze from fear. A large grave was standing in front of him, the statue of the grim reaper looking down on him, as if ready to strike him with his scythe. He crawled away from the grave, and instead collided against a soft but cold surface. He turned his head to face whatever he had leaned against, feeling his blood run cold at the sight of it.

What was previously just a black shadow had transformed into the corpse of a young man. His eyes were open and blurry, not a hint of life in them. His mouth hang open as if he was caught mid-sentence when he died, and his previously pink lips were now faded of all color. His brown curls fell dirty and wet around his head, transforming into a dark hallo that framed his young, handsome face. He was handsome. Even in death.

The need to scream came hard but got caught in his throat.

He needed to scream this boy’s name, to tell him that his death was not fair that he should blame him for what happened that it was all his fault.

However…he couldn’t bring himself to do it, he was unable to remember the young man’s name. Hot tears started forming and falling down his face.

Before he knew it, the darkness had caught up, swallowing him whole. ***

“…Potter…er Pott… Mister Potter…Harry!”

His eyes flew open at the loud call, getting immediately assaulted by the bright light that found it’s way into the room through the thin curtains. When had he even closed them?

He winced and sluggishly tried blocking the light from his eyes. He squinted at the form of the brown haired woman sitting at the chair in front of him, her expression giving away her clear concern.

“You’re falling asleep on me Harry.” She said simply.

He let out a low groan, his hand running down his face in frustration. He had promised to himself he wouldn’t do it again but once more, he had done nothing but fail. That was the third time this week, where he found himself completely unaware of his surroundings. It was starting to get repetitive.

“I apologize, I should have been paying more attention, work has been exhausting-“

“What were you dreaming about?” He was cut off quicker than usual. At least they had started to understand one another a little bit more in the past month. Or, she was just as tired as he was about this whole thing and wanted to get straight to the point. Harry honestly couldn’t find it in himself to blame her.

“The nightmare I told you about.” He said and looked down at his bruised hands that were fumbling with the hem of his sleeve. Anything to avoid having any form of eye contact with her.

If it was up to him, he wouldn’t be around anyone, especially someone who wanted to pick at his brains. He would much rather prefer the company of a sleeping draught and a bottle of firewishkey. But Hermione had insisted he should continue this cycle of madness called therapy. And when had Harry ever said no.

“The one about the graveyard right? Tell me Harry how long has it been since you’ve visited that place?” Her soft voice echoed through the almost empty room, the quill on her hand ready to write down any information her client would give her.

Harry’s shoulders tensed, images of green light, a grave and Cedric’s body flashed through his mind, the sensation of being tied up against hard stone overtaking his body. He shook his head as if to shake the horrid memories out of his brain. He shouldn’t allow himself to get sidetracked again.

“I stopped visiting that graveyard almost fifteen years ago… when I was twenty and got married. I had convinced myself that I needed to move on and get rid of memories that caused me pain so I could make my wife happy.” The world ‘wife’ left a bitter taste on his tongue. He wanted to prevent that outcome by changing himself but alas, in the end he was apparently too much for anyone to care for.

The quill started working, writing down everything that came out of his mouth, the sound of it scratching the notebook’s parchment filling in the silence of the room, as his therapist was regarding him with her soft but calculating eyes, thinking about what to say next. She seemed to settle on what she wanted to ask, her dark brown eyes having a glint of hesitation in them before she spoke.

“Did you manage to lock these nightmares away at some point?”

Harry held back a sigh. Did that really need questioning?

“For the most part.” Was the short reply that came out of his mouth before the framed pair of brown eyes met his, probing him to say more. He really despised being in therapy. Hermione would owe him for this.

“I continued having them but they became less and less frequent …less violent. Most days I would wake up completely unfazed, not remembering a single thing from my dreams.” he paused. “Other days I would feel miserable from the moment I’d wake up. Some of them I just stayed in bed all day. Ginny would look after me.” He winced as he pronounced his ex- wife’s name but it would be a lie not to mention how much she had helped him through all this.

His therapist seemed to have taken notice of his uncomfortable behavior, her face now wearing a mask of faked sympathy. He knew she didn’t feel a hint of sympathy for him. She just pitied him like everybody else. Pitied him for getting dumped by the only good thing that he had in his life. The only person that tolerated his unstable fucked up self for ten whole years before finally snapping and leaving him.

“Tell me...did your nightmares become more intense after your divorce Harry? Do you think that event might have triggered bad memories to come back?” The quill continued writing her owner’s questions before pausing, waiting patiently for Harry’s answers.

“As I said, the memories never really left me they just…toned down you could say. Ginny worked as my paddle. She was the only thing keeping me levelheaded and away from the dark corners of my mind. When she left I…”

“You started visiting those dark corners again.” his therapist said, finishing his sentence for him. He nodded.

“Have you shared any of this with your ex-wife? I am sure if she knew what is going on inside your head she would reconsider your divorce.” The quill had started scratching the notebook’s pages again, the act sounding harsh to Harry’s ears. He wanted it to stop.

“No. I haven’t and I don’t intent to. My wife left me for her own reasons and I can’t change her mind. I wouldn’t want her stuck with me out of guilt and pity.” His own voice sounded harsh on his ears. He was saying the truth of course, he couldn’t bare being away from her but he also couldn’t keep her with him just to satisfy his needs, it would be unfair for Ginny and her future.

He couldn’t watch her waste anymore of her life with someone like him. He wasn’t that selfish.

“I understand that Harry, but you should try at least starting to see her again. Maybe even platonic interactions with her would help you recover from that dark place faster. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.” She said and flashed him a seemingly reassuring smile that made him slightly cringe inside.

“That would be great as you say Dalia but I can’t make my ex-wife or anyone else who doesn’t wish to have anything to do with me meet me, let alone reform a friendship with me.”

“You don’t know until you try Harry.”

“Well I’d rather not try.”

He watched as her brows furrowed in thought, the quill next to her had paused too as if unsure if it should write down what was going on. He had been waiting for her to get the hint and stop talking about Ginny but unfortunately his ‘Potter luck ‘ proved once again to have worn off years ago as she continued pushing.

“On what terms did your wife leave you Mister Potter?” She asked with a calm and collected voice but Harry could sense the underline of intrigue and fear in her words.

The obvious change from ‘Harry’ to ‘Mister Potter’ also gave away the fact that she had picked on something that should be left alone even by a therapist. Not knowing what to say except from the ugly truth, Harry decided to remain silent, his green eyes hidden behind large black frames.

He saw Dalia swift on her seat impatiently, her eyes looking straight at him probing him to say something, anything.

To confess what atrocities he could have possibly done to make his loving and devoted wife of seven years leave him in a flash. He obviously wouldn’t say that, so he just kept staring back at her.

If that staring contest continued, he would have to change therapists again. He couldn’t afford another hit to his reputation, or his ego for that matter.

Thankfully, for him a knock on the door saved him from any more uncomfortable probing and the trouble of having to look for a new therapist that wouldn’t look at him with amusement or pity when they thought he wasn’t looking. He was done feeling like an exotic wild animal being held in a too small for him cage.

The door opened slightly, allowing a tiny house elves’ head to pop in the office, a small bonnet on top of it’s head concealing its two large ears as they were tucked inside it. It searched around the room before locking eyes with Harry, a small smile appearing on its face.

“Mister Potter you have been summoned to the Ministry sir, they say its urgent sir.”

Harry had never felt more relieved to be called to work. He stood up with as much grace as he could and nodded a goodbye at Dalia who was still staring at him intensely before walking to the door.

“See you at our next session Harry.” She said, her voice giving off the idea that she was smiling at him.

“See you next week then.” He said without looking back to her as he exited the office and apparated away with a loud crack. ***

_TENKBIND RESIDENCE, HERTFORD STREET. FRIDAY 10 OCTOMBER 2015 17:34 AM_

The inside of the house was a mess.

Pieces of glass from the broken windows and from several wooden furniture laid sporadically on the floor creating a clutter that was hard to step through, increasing the possibility of seriously hurting yourself if you weren’t careful enough.

The walls and the ceiling were equally destroyed, with sections of them broken off or scorched as if they have been hit by countless curses. A fight had definetely taken place there.

The obvious signs of a fight made the presence of the three unmoving bodies on the floor even more tragic. A family from what they had gathered. Two adults, a man and a woman at their late 30s along with their 13-year-old daughter. She had been staying over until October thanks to an illness, a 3rd year Ravenclaw. Her body was found closer to the front door, she had tried to run away but didn’t make in time.

Harry wondered where could she possibly seek shelter from, the neighborhood was consisted of nothing but muggle families. Maybe she didn’t have a plan on where to go, just wanted to escape.

He carefully avoided the shreds of a broken mirror and made his way next to the father’s body. Matthew Tenkbind, 39 years old, muggleborn, had a small shop of magical artifacts at Diagon Ally. Nothing intriguing or exciting about him, just the guy next door with a loving wife and a smart child. Yet there he was, lying dead on the floor, inside his own house.

He kneeled next to the body, inspecting it closer. The man was fallen on his side; his cheek collided with the hard surface of the living room floor. His blue eyes were widened and still, staring with fear at something-someone- that was no longer there, his mouth open, he had been screaming when he died. Begging for mercy? To alert his wife and kid, tell them to run away? Harry couldn’t be sure.

“Do we have a diagnosis ready? Or at least a part of it, any clues at all?” He asked a young blond haired man that was fumbling with his wand a few feet away, trying to repair parts of the house without deleting useful evidence.

The young Auror looked at him with a mixture of awe and surprise on his face as if he couldn’t believe that Harry was actually talking to him, before nodding. Harry couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable under the man’s intense stare.

“Y-yes sir! t-the healers said he died first.” He said and pointed at the corpse of Mr. Tenkbind.

“No er...no obvious signs of the cruciatus curse or any other form of torture, sir.” He slightly stuttered as he spoke, and looked as if he was about to faint from the pressure at any given moment.

Harry took a look at his light blue robes, indicating he was still in training and he immediately understood that this must have been his first real mission ever. Poor, poor kid that was a terrible way to start your first day at work.

“He was lucky enough.” Added the young not-yet-Auror under his breath, his attention now fully on Harry, his assigned task long forgotten. He was new at the department but he had apparently been advised from the others in the office to always look at Auror Potter when he addressed him and only speak to him when he was spoken to.

He didn’t want to disrespect a man like him much less get on his bad side. He had been head of the department after all.

“Lucky you say? What about the other two bodies, were they tortured?” Harry said and stared at the young man who looked very close to having a panic attack, his hazel eyes looking as wide as two dinner plates.

He scowled. They should really start picking recruits that could stomach situations like these. Attacks of this kind were quite common these days, much to everyone’s dismay of course, but they were. Moreover, people dealing with them should be ready to face the worst.

“W-well sir, we can’t be sure how the events happened but they said the mother had been under the influence of the cruciatus curse for at least ten minutes before passing out. They killed her later.” He finished, his eyes looking at the floor, avoiding looking at the victim. Harry felt like wanting to hit his head against a wall but instead decided to let out an aggressive groan. He wanted a full report of the case, not half-assed facts from a newbie who could barely talk around him.

The groan must have flicked a switch in the boy’s brain as he cleared his throat and pointed at the girl’s limp body down the hall.

“Whoever it was that attacked them left her for last and had their fun with her. She appears to have bruises and deep cuts on various parts of her body, including her scalp. She is the only one with noticeable exterior wounds and they found dried blood next to her, they tested it and it belongs to the victim, sir.” 

The young man took a breath after his rambling had stopped his cheeks red from the speed of his speech. He dared to glance at Harry’s face for any kind of approval for the detailed report he just gave only to see the older Auror looking at the corpses of the Tenkbind family with a thoughtful expression. He didn’t dare to ask what he was thinking.

Harry stayed kneeled on the ground next to Mr.Tenkbind for a while, his eyes closed as he tried to re-imagine the crime according to the autopsy details and his own research. He could piece the pieces together but they still didn’t give away any motive or indication about who had done it.

The _investigation-ary_ part of this job was truly exhausting, he’d prefer to have to do paperwork than this and that said something because he hated paperwork. He stayed like that for several minutes, collecting his thoughts for the report before finally standing up. 

The kid was still standing there. Harry wasn’t sure why the boy had decided to hang around and watch him squad in front of a dead body for three minutes or more but he really couldn’t find the strength to care. A pair of hazel eyes were looking straight at him with awe and what he understood as a pure need for validation. Harry felt hopeless. It was just a normal report, the kid shouldn’t be so proud of himself, and yet he had to say something nice because he hated being mean to the newbies especially on their first godamm-day.

He managed a grimace of a smile and landed his hand on the boy’s shoulder, patting him slightly twice. The boy lost all the color on his face from the shock of the contact but somehow managed to blush at the same time. If Harry hadn’t been so wrapped up in his own mind, he might have noticed the obvious change on the boy’s face but he was too distracted with his shitty life to care for such things in the first place.

“Good job umm…” He gave the young man a pointed look.

“Marcus Hopper sir! I am still in training as you can see.” He said and pointed at his blue robes. “But I am truly glad I came at this investigation, it is a big honor to meet you Auror Potter.”

“Hopper huh? Seems like you were made for this job kid.” He decided to block out the last part of his sentence. Meeting him shouldn’t be considered an honor for Merlin’s sake, this kid made him feel like he was the fucking Queen of England.

Marcus was about to say something but Harry felt like his temper couldn’t last any longer. He really wanted to get away from the crime scene as soon as possible. He couldn’t think properly with all this chaos around.

“Well then Marcus go on with whatever you were assigned to do.” He said and pointed at the floor where pieces of furniture laid scattered. That seemed to pull the boy off his daze as he nodded vigorously and hurried away at the direction of another Auror who looked ready to scold the trainee.

Harry was about to turn his back to the crime scene, kiss the rest of this day goodbye and drown whatever pity and sadness he felt towards those people with a bottle of firewishkey, when a familiar and unwelcoming voice made him stop in his tracks. Honestly, couldn’t the world allow him a moment of peace?

“Auror Potter!”

The brooding voice made Harry flinch as he turned his head towards the loud man that was stomping down the stairs with a wide smile on his face. Harry felt like throwing up at the sight of it. They were at a crime scene not a circus, for Morgana's shake, all that happy energy felt forced and really out of place. It made him sick to his stomach.

Unfortunately, for him, despite the disgusted demeanor he was certain he was giving off the man continued to approach him, his smile getting wider and wider.

“Ah, Potter! Just the person we needed for this investiga- are you bloody leaving?”

Harry could almost sing aloud after seeing that fake smile fall and crash onto the floor, and getting itself replaced by a pair of frowned brows and a disappointed downturn of the lips. The overall energetic energy flew out the window leaving a cold and serious demeanor behind. Harry always thought Aguste looked better with his serious-work face on.

“Yes actually, you caught me on my way out. Now if you don’t mind I’ll see myself out.”

He said and went to turn around once more before a strong arm grabbed his shoulder and held him in place. Aguste turned out to be far stronger than he looked. He could easily fool people into thinking he was weak thanks to his lean figure and mask of childlike wonder he always wore. But Harry knew him better than that. He was vicious.

He lifted his head to look into the wolf like dark orange eyes of the taller man that had a grip on him. Even at the age of thirty-five Harry James Potter managed to look like a schoolkid in front of the current Head of the Aurors department. Not his fault really. Harry considered himself to be of average height, the other man was just abnormally tall, as much as he was abnormally annoying.

“I do indeed need you Auror Potter, I specifically asked for you. If I hadn’t sent an elf to inform you personally I doubt you would have bothered to come.” Aguste scoffed, releasing Harry’s arm as he spoke.

“That was your house elf? I should have known that bonnet looked ghastly on the poor thing, you really have a dreadful sense of fashion Aguste.” Harry couldn’t help but smirk after his remark.

“Ha-ha…hilarious. I find it unnecessary to remind you I am your superior and eight years your senior, Auror Potter…” Aguste hissed through his teeth, his frown deepening as a light blush of embarrassment spread over his face. Getting a rise out of him was too easy.

“Of course I don’t forget that Head Auror Heithfield, but I also remember that the only reason you are in charge is because I left.” That seemed to be the final push for Aguste as he reached for his wand in a flash, pointing the tip at Harry’s direction, a dark look on his face, his voice alarmingly low.

“Listen Potter, I know what you are trying to but it won’t work. You can try to get a rise out of me all you want but I am not getting you out of the case. I-we need you here.”

Harry couldn’t help but scoff at that, pushing Aguste’s wand away from his face.

“You keep saying you need me in this investigation and yet I don’t see the reason why. It’s a homicide just like any other, I’m sure the newbies will be able to solve it without my help.” He concluded and crossed his arms as he glared at the man in front of him.

Aguste took a step back and looked at him, his expression giving nothing away, but he could see the man’s chest rising and falling as he tried to calm himself down, putting a stray hair from his slicked back graying hair back into its place. Without a word, he turned around and started going up the stairs.

Harry took that as a cue to follow him and started walking up the staircase. He reached the top of the stairs and found a group of Aurors standing close and talking to each other in hushed voices, the large group concealing a part of the wall that seemed to be the reason of their distress. He sighed and tried to squeeze himself into the group to face the wall properly.

The face of a snake curled up inside a skull greeted him and Harry’s world turned upside down.

The Dark Mark in all its glory drawn on the wall with blood.

He took a sharp breath and closed his eyes. The noises of the room fading out as the world around him turned to black. ***

_HIGH SECURITY WIZARDING PRISON FOR THE CRIMINALLY INSANE, SOMEWHERE IN THE MEDITERRANEAN SEA. SATURDAY 11 OCTOMBER 2015, 01:30 AM_

“I can’t stand this anymore. Shut up already!” The woman cried out.

She had been doing this shift of watching him for two weeks now and she already felt like she was going insane herself. The man that stood before her maniacally laughed, taking pleasure at her distress and mocking her sad attempt to get him to stop talking.

Two weeks full of cruel remarks and even crueler threats about her and whomever she held dear along with crazy demands that of course her superiors had told her to just ignore or punish him for. She had decided against violence despite her inner feelings telling her that this man deserved the worst. She didn’t want to lose her position if things went sour.

However, each day it became harder and harder to ignore, getting her closer to her breaking point, and she wasn’t the only one. Plenty of the others that took shifts before and after her had mental breakdowns thanks to the words of their prisoner.

He was a monster after all.

“ I have a request to make dear Martha.” the man spoke again , his voice smooth and baritone , yet the fact that he knew her name sent shivers down the old Auror’s spine.

“You know I can’t do anything. You are just wasting your time by expecting me to grand you a wish.” She replied, trying to hide how much her voice trembled.

A pleasant smile appeared on the man’s face. Under any other circumstance, she would have found it charming but after spending two weeks with him, she could clearly see the cruelty of it.

“I assure you, that even you dear can grand me this simple demand.” he continued, his dark eyes finding hers despite the enchanted glass between them that should be obscuring her.

“Well what is then? Let’s hear it.” She said, trying to sound much braver than she actually felt at that moment.

“Bring him to me. I want to see him again.” he replied, his voice colder but still smooth.

“Who?” She already knew who. She really shouldn’t have asked.

“The **boy**. Harry Potter.”


	2. Chapter 2

Flashes of different colors passed quickly in front of his eyes while unknown screams of fear and despair reached his ears. Yet he couldn’t do anything ; he was powerless, unable to save anyone from the chaos that was taking place right in front of his eyes.  
Someone screamed his name. 

Right.

He had to run away too. 

He couldn’t just stand and observe, his life was on the line here, they were after him too. He silently wondered if all this chaos was somehow his fault. It couldn’t be his mistake, for once he was sure he wasn’t to blame. 

He followed the voice that had previously screamed his name as he squeezed and pushed his way through the unruly crowd, glancing behind him from time to time to see black hooded figures hold the unmoving bodies of people above their heads while cackling maniacaly. The entire place was drowning with fire, unconscious bodies and teared up tents, if you asked him what he would compare it to he would say it was the closest thing to hell he had seen. 

The panicked sounds and running people around him faded out as he reached the start of a forest. The scenery had changed once more, leaving a lone lean man standing in the middle of a glade, his wand aimed at the sky with a sense of purpose . He walked closer to him, the thought of the man harming him not even passing his mind.

He was standing right next to him now but the man didn’t pay him any attention, as if he wasn’t there at all. His wand was still looking at the shadand his shadowy face held a sinister grin that sent chills down the spine. His overall appearance made you pity him, he had a dirty face and torn clothes, as if he had been in a fight that he had so obviously lost. 

He tried talking to him but just got ignored again. Or maybe he just couldn’t speak. No words managed to get out of his mouth.They both stayed silent for a while before the other man finally spoke. His voice sounded years younger than one would have thought. 

“Morsmordre!” Yelled the man and his wand unleashed meriad lines of bright green into the sky. He followed the lines with his eyes as they danced around the sky, forming countless shapes his eyes couldn’t keep up with.

The lines danced into the dark sky slowly forming a familiar looking symbol in the sky, turning the enterity of the dark night sky into a dark sinister green one.

The peculiar mark made his blood run cold in his veins but he wasn’t sure why. This was the first time he had seen such a symbol, yet his whole body got overpowered by the sensation of awe he felt when he looked at it.

Why would such a thing scare him like that ? 

He went to glance at the man next to him only to find out he was gone. He was completely alone.

The mark continued to shine brighbyin the sky as he watched it with an intensity he wasn’t sure he was even capable of . He felt captivated by the way the snake had tightly wrapped itself around the skull , a clear omen of something dangerous and deadly. Still,that didn’t make him want to move away from it. 

A grand symbol like that needed a name. He felt like he had just the right name for it at the tip of his tongue but it slipped his mind everytime he went to say it out loud. It wasn’t difficult to say, he felt quite ridiculous for not being able to even mutter it.   
It was only two words. 

“The Dark Mark” the words finally managed to get out of his mouth, out of his hurting lungs and into the dark world around him. 

Instantly everything changed. The mark above him instead of the captivating green that it used to be was now a dark red, dripping down on the earth as if someone had painted it on the sky with fresh blood. The dark forest quickly transformed into a wrecked apartment, three bodies laying on the floor around him, unmoving. 

He felt panic overtake him. It was everywhere, on his body, in his mind and blood, all around him. The panic filled the room and wouldn’t allow air to come through and fill the space, causing him to feel as if he was drowning. 

He needed to get out of there fast.

His eyes quickly scanned the apartment before stopping at the only door he could see at the other end of the room. He started running towards it, not paying any attention to any other of his suroundings , the air in the room around him getting thicker and thicker making it even harder to breathe. 

He reached the door and went to open it, but the doorknob wouldn’t move. A low hissing voice from his left side urging him to quickly move and run away. He wanted to follow the voice and do just that. Run away. But he couldn’t , the door wouldn’t let him out, away from the three bodies and the bloody mark. 

“I can open it for you.” Said the hissing voice again, this time shifting sides as it spoke.

He felt like begging it to do it. Open it. I don’t want this. I don’t want to be here. Let me out of here, take me away from this mess. 

“No, I don’t need your help.” he whispered. 

The voice laughed a cruel laugh. And the scene faded to white.

***

 _12 GRIMMAULD PLACE, ISLINTON, LONDON. MONDAY 13 OCTOMBER 2015, 10:30 AM_

The pain of his broken nose wasn’t even half the amount of pain he felt on his forehead. And for once it wasn’t his annoying scar stinging him to the point of tears forming in his eyes. Getting shitfaced the night before work was obviously not a wice choice , but Harry had never claimed to be wise.

Getting in a fight while intoxicated on a Sunday night was also not the smartest choice, but to his defence he was at a muggle bar so nobody knew him and the other guy did deserve it. Propably. Harry couldn’t remember much from that fight. 

He unwrapped his sweaty body from his sheets -he really had to make Kreacher change them - and stretched out his limps, most of them letting out unsettling yet satisfying cracking sounds. He blindly searched for his wand on the night stand but found nothing. He groaned. This really wasn’t going to be his day. 

Opening his eyes and standing up sent another sharp pain at his forehead and made his already blurry vision fill with little black and gray spots. He shouldn’t be moving so much in this condition but if he didn’t take care of himself no one else would.

“Now, where in goblin’s crotch did I put my wand…” He mumbled to himself as he made his way around the room, stumbling on fallen pieces of clothing and other stuff that had found residence on the floor of his -previously Regulus’s- room for quite some time.

He gave up his fruitless search after a bit and fell back into the bed , feeling something small and hard poking his lower back. Because of course he would have slept with his wand on him. Harry couldn’t help but feel thankful he hadn’t made any permanent damage to himself in his sleep. 

  
If Moody were to see him now he would be deeply dissapointed. A Head Auror, previous head of the department, sleeping while having his wand on him was utterly inconsivable and beyond careless. Harry decided to blame his drunk self for this idiocy and not the self-destructive tendecacies all his therapists insisted he had. 

He grabbed his wand behind his back and silently called his glasses to him. The pair, that was hidden underneath a bunch of clothes that really should be in the laundry by now, flew right into his face, poking him in the right eye. 

Harry rubbed his eye and currsed out loud. He wasn’t sure who or what but fuck whoever decided that his luck today would be shit. Once he could see clearly from his right eye again he grabbed his wand and with a swirl of the wrist he lazily moved it.

“Tempus.” he mumbled.

The bright numbers above his head showed “10:40” and Harry felt like hitting his head against the large wall with the embalmed house elf heads. Being almost one hour late to work wasn’t something that should be taken lightly but he sure had done worse and they still kept him around. 

Benefits of being the Chosen one , he thought grudgingly and turned to his messy and sweat covered bed, fixing it quickly with a swish of his wand. Harry was glad he didn’t sleep with anyone at the moment, he didn’t think any normal person would want to lay down a bed like that. He didn’t want to lay there himself and it was his own bed. 

He dashed through his morning routine, not bothering to put his Auror robes on. He was already going to get yelled at by for being late , he could handle also getting yelled at for not coming to work in “proper” attire.

He quickly moved down the stairs, passing by and ignoring the portrait of a very pissed off Walburga Black who had been woken up by the commotion. 

He gave the kitchen a longing glance and hoped someome from the department would be a good enough person to go get late breakfast with him. He put his shoes on and was about to open the front door when a loud cough made him stop and look up at the stairs. 

More percicely at a painting that hung close to the stairs, who usually featured a dull winter landscape and nothing else. Now in the painting stood none other than Walburga in all her fearfull glory, sending scortching glares at Harry as if he had called her the most insulting thing he could think of. 

“Did you forget something boy?” she asked, her voice cold , her eyes never leaving Harry’s figure. Harry felt like rolling his eyes at her but he knew better than that. 

“I’m sorry, I am running late for work and I forgot. Good morning.” he placed his hand on the old doorknobe, ready to open the door as soon as their conversation ended. 

“Ha! Too late for that! And of course you are running late for work! Coming home a drunken mess even after the countless times I warned you not to drink too much.” She said and shook her head, clearly dissapointed in his actions. Harry felt like he was being scolded by a mother he never had.

“You are too pathetic even for a halfblood. If you had just listened to me and hadn’t gone out in the first place this wouldn’t have happened. You can’t even take care of yourself properly how dread-" Harry had to cut her off before it was too late and the lecture got out of hand. He was already late for Merlin’s shake, why couldn’t this woman pick another time to scold him. 

“I know I am terrible Burga, you don’t have to remind me. Now excuse me but I have important stuff to do.” he lowered his uper body into a slight bow. 

“ Have a good morning, please inform Kreacher that I will probably wont be eating lunch here.” he said and with a flash was out of the door, the yells of Walburga about him eating a proper breakfast muffled by the heavy door. 

***

 _DEPARTMENT OF MAGICAL LAW ENFORCMENT, LONDON, MONDAY 13 OCTOBER 2015, 10: 50 AM_

He wasn’t sure where he was hiding all that energy, but Harry managed to run from the elevator all the way to his office in less than ten minutes, which said a lot since his office was way past the last cubicles in the room.

As he passed through the offices of his co-workers he could feel the mixture of judgmental and amazed stares from the older and newer Aurors accordingly. Seriously, the older Aurors should know and accept that he would sometimes be late by now. It wasn’t the first time he did it and it definitely wouldn’t be his last. 

He opened the door to his office and burdged in, closing it behind with enough force to make his secretary jump from his chair and try in a hurry to hide the ciggarate he was holding behind his back as if Harry would yell at him for slacking off.

The kid was too panicky. To everyone else he seemed to have his shit together, with his cool demeanor and hooded eyes, but Harry had seen enough of him to know it was all a front.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist Theo it’s only me.” he said and took off his jacket, hanging it at the wooden hanger close to the door.

Theo, whose dark face was flushed with embarassment, hesitantly brought the ciggarate close to his mouth again. 

“Sorry sir. I thought you were Mr. Heinfield.”

“Me? That old prick? You are making me sad Theo.”   
He said and fell down on his chair with loud sigh, throwing his bag somewhere nearby and hoping nothing inside of it broke. He doubt he ever carried anything breakable inside.

The smoke of Theo’s ciggarate filled the room quickly and Harry fell into the routine of managing whatever paperwork he had prepared for him. For all his addictions and faults Theodore had proved to be a competent enough secretary, even if he was, occasionally , a prat.

The usual silence of their work room was broken by a loud growl that escaped from the depths of his stomach. Harry would have been embarrassed had it been anyone else but him and Theo in the room.

The other man sparred him a glance before levitating what seemed to be a bag half full of muffins. Harry guessed the other half had already been consumed. He gave the brown haired man a smile that he hoped somewhat showed his gratitude before reaching the bag , devouring the rest of it in what felt like seconds. At least Burga wouldn’t be able to say anything about him not eating properly.

After getting rid of the plastic bag , and returning to his paperwork a light cough turned his attention back to Theo who had already moved on to his second ciggarate of the day.

“ Heinfield came in an hour ago looking for you…” he casually said and leaned agaisnt his chair, holding a yellow paper on his hand.

Harry took a moment to stare at him. What was with everyone withholding information from him these days. He wasn’t even half interested in whatever that chav needed him for.

“ Dare I ask what he wanted from me?” he asked regardless.

“ He didn’t really specify.” Theo shrugged, getting up and walking closer to Harry’s desk , putting the yellow piece of paper right in front of him. Harry spared it a glance before looking up at him.

“ Your resignation letter ?” he joked.

“ You wish,but no. He left this and said to give it to you. You should have seen him when he came in he was-" Theo threw his hands around in a grand manner “ frantic to say the least,that man seriously needs a break.” He finished and took another puff of his third cigarette.

“ Yeah you tell me. I had to deal with him being a bloody bastard much longer than you.“ Harry said , his attention already at the piece of paper in front of him. 

He could see the familiar handwriting of his superior, just as grant and bloody annoying as he was.   
Theo having decided that his work there was done ,headed back to his own desk, the intoxicating smell of the smoke following him as he walked.

Harry grabbed the paper and rested his chin on his head as he slowly read his way through the note.

  
**_“ Auror Potter,_ **

**_Even though I would love to lecture you on repetitive tardiness in the workplace, I’m afraid more pressing matters have come up._ **

**_We have found more information about the homicide that took place at Friday at the Tenkbind residence and we thought it’d be for the best to have you participate in the investigation._ **   
**_Come to my office as soon as you read this._ **

**_Heinfield A.”_ **

“Great.” Was all Harry managed to say before the yellow paper set itself on fire. 

***

_HIGH SECURITY WIZARDING PRISON FOR THE CRIMINALLY INSANE, SOMEWHERE IN THE MEDITERRANEAN SEA. TUESDAY 14 OCTOMBER 2015, 9:20 AM_

The ongoing tapping on the glass was gradually sounding louder and louder in his ears to the point of becoming unbearable.

You’d think that after fifteen years of keeping him captive in this place they’d find a much better way of waking him up in the mornings but alas his captors saw nothing wrong with this grossly muggle method. He guessed it was better than an alarm clock. 

Likely for the guards entrainment he didn’t require many hours of sleep. He found no enjoyment in sleeping and no matter how ‘accommodating’ his new residence was, he couldn’t help but feel permanently exposed.

A wall of thick glass was the only thing separating him from the outside of his cell and the aurors that were guarding him.  
That and a ridiculous amount of wards that, had his magic not been restricted, was sure he could easily break apart.

He stared down at the silver bracelet hanging around his thin and scarred wrist. The dammed thing had been put upon him almost seconds after he had gained his consciousness at St.Mungos. 

He was surprised they hadn’t put it on him sooner, considering who he was and all, but he later got informed that the healers that were attending him were planning to let him die so they saw no point in putting it on his unconscious, soon to be corpse.

Till Potter stepped in to stop them that is.

He didn’t have his consciousness when it had happened but he heard the low whispers of the nurses that came and went in his room while he was recovering. Talking about how Potter had been furious, demanding the healers to be fired and that no one should decide Voldemort’s fate but the Wizengamot.

That strange boy. Voldemort would have never done that for him. It was laughable to even think about. Even if he wasn’t the one to kill him he wouldn’t do anything to save the boy from a horrible fate . But Harry wasn’t like him.   
He wasn’t like anyone. 

Being stuck in a cell for 15 years puts things into perspective. And even though a large portion of those years was spend with him crashing his head to think of a way to escape, whatever remained of that time was to think of how he’d been bested by a mere school boy. Well,he wasn’t just a mere boy in the end. The person that bested him in Hogwarts was different from the shaking boy he had faced in the graveyard. 

He’d find himself being haunted by Harry’s words about redemption before the spell hit him and made him black out. 

He really had thought that was the end then. His cards were all on the table,his masks thrown away, his heart beating so fast he was sure it was visible from under his ribcage and yet the boy still allowed him to live.   
A terrible decision really. Voldemort could not for the life of him understand why.  
The boy should know he was incapable of feeling things as low as guilt. 

He had considered the boy simply being a coward and not wanting to kill him but he quickly dismissed that thought. Potter was a lot of things but a coward he was not. He could admit as much about his enemy. Potter had never been scared of anything Voldemort had put in his way.

“ Stand up already. I don’t have all day to deal with you.” An unpleasant and muffled voice was heard from his right. 

Without having to look he could already picture the displeasure on his captors face for the day. She was always fun to tease even if his joy when he saw her wasn’t reciprocated. You couldn’t win them all.

“Good morning to you too dear Martha, I thought I told you to not knock so harsly on the glass in the mornings.” He pushed the thin white sheets off of him and wobbly stood up. 

He didn’t want to admit to himself that he had been feeling weaker as the years passed. He blamed it on the lack of proper meals and sunlight as well as the occasional mistreatment he’d face at the hands of the braver aurors that would be assigned to him. The blasted restriction on his magic making the situation even worse.

Slowly killing him inside confinement would be a walk in the park. No one would question it he just dropped dead one day. They would claim he had destroyed himself so much ,that he couldn’t even last a century like any other wizard. Even Potter wouldn’t be able to say anything to that.

“I’m an old man you know, I might go before my time.” He said and walked closer to the wide glass barrier.

The glass that surrounded his new ‘home' had been enchanted to hide the details of the forms that layed outside while he was entirely exposed. Despite the fact, he had become efficient at recognizing who was at the other side. 

The figure of Martha had become familiar to him in the three weeks he had known her. The Auror had a short stature, with bright blonde hair that ended around her face and a voice that showed her true emotions no matter how hard she tried to hide them. He could always smell the anxiety and fear on her. A grin formed on his lips before he could help it. 

“Someone has come to see you. I expect you to be on your best behavior.” She said and he could already tell that she was trying to expand her bravado and seem bolder than she actually was.

She was overcompensating for something. Or someone   
Could it be? 

“ Did you bring him to me?” he blurted out before thinking better of it. 

She seemed to pause and take a good look at him. He hated when they did that. Nothing good came when they went silent for too long. Martha herself had never gone to torture him but he could never be sure. His teasing and humiliation could only take him that far. If a guard snapped under the spell of maddening fear he tried to place them under it never ended well for him. 

He tried to keep his shoulders up and stiff, the beige pajamas that hang on his frame suddenly felt like the worst thing to be seen in, he felt overexposed . He hated it. Don’t look at me. Don’t come nearer . Don’t. 

“No. I haven’t, and you are daft if you think I would. Someone ought to show you your place you,-" she went to reach for her wand but got stopped midway. A strong hand wrapped around her wrist.

“ That’s enough now Martha. Thank you for your assistance so far but I think me and your prisoner have some issues we need to discuss. “ 

A tall figure had appeared next to the Auror. Voldemort was sure he had never seen that person before, the voice was unfamiliar as well. That was concerning.

The figure, a man, he presumed, let go of Martha’s hand who in turn murmured an apology and left the room. The man walked closer to the glass and placed his hand on it. Voldemort tried following him with his eyes , focusing on the blue veins that were visible on the palm of his hand.   
  
“I heard you were asking for Potter.” The voice of the other side said, his tone amused yet with a flick of annoyance in it.

“ I see you are acquainted with him.” Voldemort said. 

The other man let out a laugh that might have been confused with a bark. It was harsh and ended as quickly as it happened. 

“ Hah! That obvious is it? “

“...What is it that you want? “ He wasn’t liking this anonymity. Potter being mentioned could not be a good sign either, but he needed to be as patient as he could.

“I want us to make a deal.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is continuing ! I'm almost done with ch3 so I'm probably gonna update early December!   
> A lot of inspiration for Voldemort's cell came from NBC Hannibal with some added enchantment~
> 
> Again thank you all for reading! Comments are always appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> This is a project that I wanted to work on for about a year now,I'm currently writing ch3 of it and I plan to make it a long projet but hopefully not too long.  
> I loved the idea when it came to me and hopefully it appeals to someone else other than me! Comments and critiques are always appreciated!


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